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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030782">Love, Neil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor'>gluupor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AFTG Bingo 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AFTG Bingo 2020, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Love Simon Fusion, Identity Reveal, M/M, Online Relationship, Prompt: online dating au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:29:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A random post got Andrew the attention of a guy he's slowly starting to fall for. He'd never expected to feel this way about anyone and now his entire life's been turned upside down. The only problem? They've only ever communicated online and Andrew's scared that he'll not be enough in real life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AFTG Bingo 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AFTG Bingo Blackout 2020 - Cupcakes, All For The Game Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love, Neil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the cupcakes' attempt at blackout bingo, prompt: online dating au. Thank you to Mads for giving this a readthrough for me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew took a deep breath to steady himself before stepping out of his car. For all that he was in a hurry—and he was, he might already be too late—he still needed a moment to centre himself. Taking this step was a big deal. He generally didn’t let himself be known, but Neil had been right after all. He already knew Andrew, even if he didn’t know his name or his face.</p><p>It had all started, stupidly enough, the previous summer on their school’s Tumblr page. No one knew who ran it, only that it posted all the current gossip and creative works from the student body at Palmetto Court High School. <em>Courtsecrets</em> ran completely on submissions; anyone could send it anything they wanted, completely anonymously. It had backfired spectacularly more than once due to malicious gossip (the most recent example being Neil’s unwanted outing over the holiday break).</p><p>It had been a particularly hot day in early July, with heat shimmering in the air and cicadas droning noisily. Andrew was lying on the low-pile carpeting in his basement, starfished across the floor in an attempt to keep cool. He’d already had a fight with Aaron that morning—about nothing in particular, both of them tetchy and irritated from the heat—and later Nicky had said something careless that set off Andrew’s defenses. Not fit to be around people, Andrew had retreated to the basement.</p><p>He was just feeling <em>too much</em> with no outlet to express himself beyond petty vandalism or violence. Feeling a burst of frustration, he tried to put his feelings into words (a suggestion from his therapist). He wrote a short rant, pouring out his rage and grief and anger and loneliness in abstract language. Writing it out made him feel better, but still hadn’t completely purged the poison. So in an attempt to distance himself from it, in a fit of pique he’d anonymously submitted it to <em>courtsecrets</em>.</p><p>The next day he’d regretted it, not wanting his innermost thoughts and feelings floating freely where anyone could see them, even if they didn’t know they were his. He’d returned to Tumblr to see if there was any way to delete his submission, but what he found was a reply to his ramblings. It was a single word: ^^^THIS, followed by an email address.</p><p>He couldn’t explain why he set up a new anonymous email and sent a message. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he wanted to see what the person who reacted to his frustrated complaints with agreement had to say to him. Maybe he needed someone to talk to, following yet another communication breakdown with both his brother and his cousin, neither of whom showed much desire or ability to understand him. In any case, he sent a short, terse email to whoever sunrise.abram.death@gmail.com was, not expecting much.</p><p>Instead, he got Neil.</p><p>Not that he knew it was Neil at first. At first it was just some guy who called himself Abram and told Andrew how much his words had resonated with him. Their earliest interactions were exceedingly awkward, but they’d both soldiered through. Andrew’s own dedication to continuing their communication was bolstered by their anonymity, coupled with finally getting to talk to someone who seemed to understand him on a basic level.</p><p>Emails morphed from superficial topics—mainly complaints about the weather or boredom or irritating family members/friends—to more serious ones. Andrew found himself opening up about his past, something he’d never done outside of therapy. The first time he’d sent a message that touched briefly on his experiences in foster care, his stomach had cramped nervously. He wished he could recall the email almost immediately, worried about scaring Abram away or getting insincere apologies that highlighted his discomfort.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Doe</em>, Abram had written back, using Andrew’s own pseudonym, <em>whenever I say anything about my past I get glassy eyed stares or awkward chuckles or overly earnest people telling me they’re sorry. I don’t want you to suffer through any of that with me. Instead have this: I hear you.</em></p>
</blockquote><p>Somehow it had been exactly what Andrew needed from him. His heart fluttered in his chest and when he looked back he knew that was the exact moment he started to fall.</p><p>The emails quickly became one of the most important things in Andrew’s life, as they often sent multiple missives a day. Before long Abram was one of the people who knew him best, and their relationship, exclusively online though it was, was among the most important in his life. Certainly Abram was the only person in the world who thought Andrew was <em>funny</em>.</p><p>Although he’d obliquely hinted at his own sexuality more than once, Abram had seemingly missed all his veiled references. Andrew didn’t know if that meant that Abram was pretending not to notice because he was uncomfortable or that he was dense. Andrew wasn’t sure which was worse. He eventually screwed up his courage enough to blatantly come out to him (wrapped up in a story about how he was considering coming out to his family): the first person he’d ever told outside of his adopted mother and his therapist.</p><p>By that time, Andrew had finally admitted to himself that he wanted the other boy, despite not knowing his true identity. Coming out to him was his way of sending out feelers, trying to find out if there was maybe a possibility of them being compatible or if Andrew was being stupid over a straight guy. Abram’s response hadn’t been exactly what Andrew was hoping for (<em>Me too! Let’s kiss</em>), but at least he hadn’t said anything along the lines of <em>no homo</em> either.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>Is it weird that I don’t know what I am?</em> Abram wrote back. <em>I’ve had a girlfriend, but in that middle school way of dating where she sent me a note that read, ‘will you go out with me?’ and we never saw each other outside of school. Sometimes she held my hand, which was kinda clammy, and she kissed me twice. I really had no desire to do it again. In fact, I’m mostly convinced this whole idea of romance is manufactured by society. Who falls in love at first sight, outside of movies? How can you possibly want someone to touch you so intimately without trusting them completely? Why would you allow yourself to be vulnerable with someone you just met? I don’t mean YOU you, of course. Just the generic you of the universe.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>I don’t know, Doe. All of that physical stuff just seems awkward to me. I think what I really want from a relationship is someone who knows me and listens to me and supports me, and I don’t see the need for all that romantic garbage. Maybe with someone who I already care about, I could let my walls down.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Or maybe I’m actually just an incurable romantic like my friend said when I tried to explain that all to her. She told me she’d never guess I was a waiting-until-marriage kinda guy. But I personally don’t think it’s the marriage that’s important, it’s the security of knowing the person I’m with will never hurt me.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>I’d<em> never hurt you</em>, thought Andrew, futilely. He wondered if Abram’s response was worse than a rejection, offering faint hope instead of dashing it completely.</p><p>The return to school in September had Andrew carefully examining all his classmates like a detective. He knew one of them had to be Abram, but which one could it be? He couldn’t imagine him being one of the popular sports guys, like Jeremy Knox or Kevin Day, who led charmed lives and likely didn’t have any depth at all. Maybe Abram was actually emo Jean Moreau or flirty Roland Spier.</p><p>He knew that trying to find out Abram’s identity went against their unspoken agreement to remain anonymous—he certainly wasn’t prepared for Abram to know who <em>he</em> was—but he couldn’t control his curiosity. If he could figure out who Abram was, he’d be able to tell if he had a chance.</p><p>He slowly started to suspect that Abram may actually be Neil Josten, the new transfer who showed up late the previous school year. It was little things; an offhand comment of Neil mentioning living with his uncle (which was something Abram had confessed, along with his complicated feelings about his mother leaving him behind); a quip by Allison Reynolds at lunch about Neil being a prude; the rhythm of Neil’s speech and the frequent use of Britishisms like “rubbish” that was so reminiscent of the way Abram wrote.</p><p>Andrew couldn’t tell if he was reading too much into the little clues, or if he was simply seeing what he wanted to. Neil was extremely hot and Andrew had been drawn to him ever since he’d arrived. He didn’t think he was actually lucky enough that Neil and Abram could possibly be the same guy. Plus, he wasn’t convinced that Neil actually had thoughts in his head that didn’t concern soccer—he and Kevin Day were best friends and both soccer fanatics.</p><p>Despite his doubts, he found out he was right just after the winter holidays; Abram had turned shifty just after Christmas, first not answering Andrew’s messages, then being extremely terse, as if worried about something, then proposing that the two of them meet. Andrew was taken aback by the suggestion—neither of them had dared broach the subject of meeting in person before. He quickly sent back a denial; he definitely wasn’t ready. He couldn’t lose Abram and he was sure that if Abram knew who he really was, that would be the end of them. Abram might like “Doe” well enough, but why would he stick around when he knew that it was just Andrew? Boring, ordinary, damaged Andrew. How could someone possibly want him?</p><p>The day before classes resumed, Abram sent him a cryptic email with a single line reading, <em>I guess you’ll figure it out tomorrow</em>. Which made more sense the next day, when the talk of the entire school seemed to be how Neil Josten—short, argumentative, soccer-star Neil Josten—had been outed as gay on the school’s unofficial Tumblr account. Andrew’s ears burned all day with overheard gossip and comments—some of them kind and supportive, some of them decidedly not.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>From: doeadeer@gmail.com</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>To: sunrise.abram.death@gmail.com</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Subject: Neil?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>But you’re not gay.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Abram’s—Neil’s—response had been terribly bitter. He explained that he hadn’t properly logged off his account after using one of the library computers and the next person to use it, the asshole Riko Moriyama, had seen a couple of their email exchanges as well as some research. Neil didn’t specify exactly what kind of research it was, but it was clear enough that there was enough evidence for Riko to attempt to blackmail Neil into getting Kevin to forgive him after a giant falling out they’d had the year previously. When Neil refused, Riko retaliated by outing him.</p><p>Neil concluded that the only silver lining was that there wasn’t any reason for him and Andrew not to meet anymore.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I know I said I didn’t understand the whole attraction thing, but I think I’m starting to. Doe, do you think it’s possible to fall for someone you’ve never met?</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Andrew’s breath stuttered in his chest when he read that. Neil couldn’t mean…? But despite what Neil said about there being no reason not to meet, Andrew disagreed. He could think of multiple reasons, the chief among them was that Neil was definitely out of his league. There was no way he’d be happy with the reveal of Andrew’s identity.</p><p>Andrew’s continued refusal to meet and his insistence that Neil would only be disappointed as soon as he knew who he was caused a strain between them. Neil’s replies grew fewer and farther between, and even Andrew had to admit that him knowing who Neil was caused a seemingly-insurmountable imbalance between them. It wasn’t sustainable and Andrew found himself constantly fretting about it.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>From: sunrise.abram.death@gmail.com</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>To: doeadeer@gmail.com</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Subject: you’re wrong</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>You say I don’t know you, Doe, but I do. I know about the things you don’t like to talk about and how much ice cream you can eat and how you love your brother but that you can’t tell him. I know you admire your cousin for his courage without ever realizing your own, for how strong you are to keep living every day. I know you have the driest sense of humour of anyone I’ve ever met and you like cats but pretend you don’t. I know you’re protective of those you love and that you have the back of anyone who has yours. I know you value honesty and reciprocity and you have spiky boundaries that you enforce with violence. In short, I </em>do<em> know you and I think you know me, too. What does it matter what you look like or what shape your body is compared to all of that?</em></p>
  <p><em>I know you, and over these past months I’ve definitely fallen for you. I don’t want to ignore it just because it’s new, but I’d never try to force you into something you don’t want. If it </em>is<em> something you want, then meet me at the school carnival this Friday before 7. If you don’t show, I’ll know your answer and I won’t ask again.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Love,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Neil</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Which led to Andrew hurrying through the school’s winter carnival, his head on a swivel, looking for a glimpse of Neil. The idiot hadn’t bothered to tell Andrew exactly <em>where</em> he could find him at the carnival and it was nearing 7. Andrew was nervous and not entirely convinced he was ready, but he also didn’t want to regret missing his chance for the rest of his life.</p><p>Finally, he heard a peal of Neil’s surprised laughter and caught a flash of his auburn hair. He was in line for the ferris wheel and, despite the unease in his stomach, Andrew pushed himself to the front of the line, ignoring the outraged grumbling as he forced his way past everyone else.</p><p>Somehow, his luck held and he managed to get to the front to follow Neil into one of the seats. The seats, he realized as the safety bar came down, that were essentially swinging buckets that were going to dangle high above the ground. He tightened his fists around the safety bar and swallowed unhappily. He could have just waited for Neil to be finished. He’d thought he was smarter than this.</p><p>“Are you okay?” asked Neil in concern as the ride started and they were swung backwards.</p><p>“Fine,” gritted out Andrew, wanting to close his eyes but unwilling to stop looking at Neil. “Neil,” he managed to say. “Abram. We’re at the carnival before seven.”</p><p>Neil’s face softened immediately and then lit up in wonder. “It’s you,” he said, reaching out.</p><p>“Hold on!” demanded Andrew, as the ride jerked to a stop to let more riders on. “You’ll fall out.”</p><p>“I really won’t,” argued Neil, his eyes intent on Andrew’s face. “I’m not wrong, am I? You’re Doe?”</p><p>Andrew pressed his lips together and nodded, waiting for the inevitable disappointment.</p><p>It never came. Neil grinned. “I never would have expected you to have a sweet tooth, you look so forbidding all the time,” he marvelled.</p><p>“I,” said Andrew, swallowing a yelp of surprise as the ferris wheel started spinning again. They were getting closer to the top. “Are you sorry? That it’s me?”</p><p>“What?” asked Neil, smile sliding off his face completely to be replaced by shock. “No, how can you ask that? You’re <em>Doe</em>. How could I be sorry?”</p><p>Andrew shrugged and took a deep breath to prepare himself for the next movement of the ride.</p><p>“You really don’t look well,” said Neil. “Are <em>you</em> disappointed it’s <em>me</em>?”</p><p>“Don’t ask stupid questions,” grumbled Andrew. “I already knew it was you.”</p><p>“Right,” said Neil, sitting back suddenly, making the seat rock.</p><p>“Stop that!”</p><p>“Oh,” said Neil. “Is it that you’re scared?”</p><p>“No,” lied Andrew.</p><p>Neil’s expression was dubious.</p><p>“I’m not the biggest fan of heights,” Andrew admitted.</p><p>“Heights? Andrew, what the hell are you doing on the ferris wheel?” laughed Neil.</p><p>“I had to get to you before seven.”</p><p>Neil’s eyes went soft again. They had finally made it to the top of the wheel and Andrew was resolutely not looking down.</p><p>“Can I kiss you?” asked Neil, expression turning shy.</p><p>“I—yes,” said Andrew, tripping over the word.</p><p>He hadn’t been expecting Neil to be happy about his identity and he certainly hadn’t expected Neil to want to kiss him, but he wasn’t going to give up his chance. He leaned in at the same time as Neil did and their noses bonked together painfully. Neil laughed and adjusted the angle of his head before leaning in again. It was short, just a chaste press of lips before Andrew had to pull away and grip the safety bar again as the ride resumed moving.</p><p>“Was that okay?” he asked Neil nervously, once his stomach left his throat. He remembered Neil proclaiming his disinterest in kissing his girlfriend.</p><p>“Of course it was,” replied Neil, smiling like the sunrise. “It was with you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can be found on tumblr <a href="http://gluupor.tumblr.com">@gluupor</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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